Hemlock: You Will Be My Death
by Sezu-Ni
Summary: Being reborn into another life after two centuries of being alone will make anyone a bit... odd. God of Death Harry. Slash.


**Hemlock: You Will Be My Death  
**

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**Summar****y: **Being reborn into another life after two centuries of being alone will make anyone a bit... odd. God of Death Harry.

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**To: **petitebunny27

**From: **Your Secret Santa

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**Disclaimer**: Not mine.

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Harry thought after the war was over, he'd go on with the life he wanted. A large family, a loving wife, a well-paying job and just all-around happiness to everyone that survived the battle. He got one and a half of that.

Everyone, best friends included, went on with their lives; they married, had children, rose through the ranks and had a long, long life.

Harry did not.

At seventeen, he stopped aging.

At twenty, he was named Head Auror.

At thirty, he disappeared from the public eye.

At fifty, he went exploring.

At seventy, he died and met Death. A Death who told him of his inheritance (both monetary and magical), the Deathly Hallows and other worlds. How there was only one Death and when Harry chose to 'move-on' the current Death would disappear and Harry would take over.

"I am inevitable, not omnipotent." Death had said, a bit monotonous. "The Deathly Hallows weren't created by me, rather - another Death in another time. A tradition that started from the beginning of time and gave **Death **a way to be 'human' without being human. Every millennium or so, Death will choose a new host, one that would bare the responsibility of _Death_."

And that was that. He woke in a hospital after being proclaimed death for three hours and decided to go back to adventuring.

At ninety, he had visited every magical sight the world had to offer.

At one hundred and thirty, he had witnessed and participated in five different wars.

At one-hundred and seventy eight, magic disappeared from the world and Earth began to crumble.

At one-hundred and seventy eight, he died. Again.

And without fanfare, Death arrived in the Chamber of Secrets (why would it be King's Cross? The Chamber was always the most memorable) and quite literally, threw all responsibility on his shoulders. "Be wary, Harry James Potter, for every two hundred years - Death is reborn as human, as it has always been. We need to remember humanity, that souls aren't _mere objects _and that they were 'people' before. We are _Death _but we are also _Life_." The spectral figure then vanished.

But Harry barely heard any of this; the Cloak of Invisibility, the Stone of Resurrection and the Wand of Power. Each broke apart and shot straight to his soul, merging completely and finalizing the process of becoming **Death**. The pain was unreal, setting each and every nerve aflame and then killing them. He felt nothing, everything was numb and he _hated _it.

The morphine-like state of mind where Death was all-encompassing and life barely interfered. He awoke, in the middle of a forest with a stereotypical scythe in hand and a flowing black robe hiding his figure. In his mind, he could suddenly feel each and every life-form in the country and could just as easily tear it away. It felt as easy as breathing, a skeletal hand and a single movement could take life as much as giving it.

It was an awe-inspiring feeling Harry would normally dislike - the power over every living creature in the world - but as Death, he had no feelings, no bias' and no moral compass. He only felt when it was time for someone to go and the foreknowledge of where to take them.

"You will learn, as I have. Two Hundred Years, Harry James Potter, and you will remember humanity."

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**Two Hundred Years Later  
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To say that Harry was immediately aware of his surroundings when he awoke would be a lie. It took a year and some months before consciousness returned and Harry realized where he was.

In a child's room, in a crib surrounded by small (large enough he wouldn't choke should he ever have the urge to shove something down his throat) nick-knacks and other babe-like paraphernalia. In a mirror opposite of his crib, Harry was able to see a mirror.

Fluffy hair, defying gravity (bright auburn, soft spikes) and a baby's chubbiness that had slimmed a bit to hint at a girlish delicateness. Wide-eyes (innocent, dark in pain) were a pretty brown color, milk-chocolate and everything sweet with a pert nose that was currently wrinkled in distaste. He was cute and long-repressed feelings were making it harder to manage a completely indifferent look that was natural with Death.

"'am." He couldn't even swear properly and to his ever-growing horror, tears were already welling up at the corner of his eyes. "U-un." His mouth formed incomprehensible words (baby-speech) and before he was able to begin _wailing, _the door opened and a woman walked into the room.

She was pretty in a way most mothers were, but held something that made her stand out in a crowded area. A brightness in her face, a spring in her step and just genuine happiness to be there at the exact moment. Her brown hair - similar in color to his own - swayed as she walked, long locks straight and stopping a bit before her hips.

Sawada 'Nana' Nadeshiko. That was her and - something warm bloomed in his chest - she was his _mother_. "Tsu-kun," She cooed, brown-eyes soft and filled with motherly love. "Don't cry, you're a big boy, aren't you?"

Listening to her soothing voice, Harry was surprised to feel this child's body calm. "U-un."

"Now, why don't you come with kaa-san and help her make breakfast, how does that sound Tsu-kun?"

"U-un." That seemed to be the only thing he was able to say. Every other attempt either came across as indecipherable baby-babble or little whines of displeasure. It was disconcerting to know he was behind in vocabulary - worse than small Rose who was already speaking by month eleven - barely able to convey what he wanted.

But what he disliked the most, was the loss of control he had over his emotions. Small things - insignificant things - tended to make him cry. Seeing a ghost (when he should be so used to it) made him cry. Nana leaving made him cry. _Crying _made him cry harder. It was a distinct difference between the two worlds as it would take _a lot _more to make Harry cry.

Sawada Tsunayoshi on the other hand...

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"Tsu-kun," Nana sang out, voice full of maternal love. Around her, flowers were blooming and a sweet smile was curving her lips, "Don't put that in your mouth, you might catch something and die." Tsuna was already putting the toy down when he heard the first part, only to freeze and stare at his mother in abject horror. The woman wasn't even looking at him anymore, innocence radiating from her dancing form with a broom in her hand.

Sawada Nana was a one-of-a-kind woman who enjoyed long walks on the beach and cooking. She was kind, sweet and took care of everyone who she saw needed help. Tsuna even remembered a time where the four guest rooms were filled because his mother had brought home some men and women off the street. Never mind that two of them had some obvious drug problems.

But she also had a spine of steel, a scary smile and wicked skills with a frying pan. The one time someone had brought drugs in her house, Tsuna shivered. He was only three but he had sworn off every form of narcotics if only so he'd never see that look on her face again. Not only was both drug-users reformed, but the four 'guests' had ended up getting jobs and moving out within a month.

They still visited sometimes, all twenty of them, baring flowers, small gifts and a deep-seeded love for the woman who had given them a chance when the world had given up on them.

Mama always chose the good ones, the safe ones - who wouldn't dare put harm to a wife and child - and the ones who would strive to better themselves. And whenever Tsuna would ask how she knew, she'd just smile and say, "Mama knows a good heart." And went off on her way.

She was everything Tsuna and Harry thought a mother should be and more.

Tsuna loved his mother and Harry was learning how to love.


End file.
